


After the Desert

by emmadart23



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadart23/pseuds/emmadart23
Summary: Dante and Aristotle head to college.
Relationships: Aristotle Mendoza/Dante Quintana
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: YA_Lit_Fan_Fic_Exchange





	After the Desert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ARH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARH/gifts).



_ Ari _

“Ari?” his voice was softer than it had been a few minutes ago, when we were laughing about the time when we kissed in the desert, under a downpour just like this one. But there, cacti and desert brush were the only company we had; here, on this balcony overlooking Chicago’s towering buildings, we were surrounded by the noise of the city, mixed with the low roar of rainfall hitting pavement. Dante turned towards me, his profile highlighted by the soft glow of the city. “Can you believe we start college tomorrow?”

“Yeah I can, weirdo,” I smirked, jostling his shoulder with mine. “As it is September 4, which makes tomorrow September 5.” I know my sarcasm was expected, but for once I actually empathized with Dante’s dumb sentimentality. After a whirlwind summer of burger grease, chlorine-bleached hair, and long walks with Legs, it was finally time for us to go off to the next stage of our academic careers. I had escaped the linoleum halls of high school, leaving Gina and Susie behind to do whatever they decided to do with their lives. Now we were here, in a city bigger than I could ever imagine a place being, though Mr. Quintana liked to remind me that there’s plenty of cities in the world bigger than this one. Dante was headed to UChicago, where his dad’s faculty position helped him land a prestigious spot in their incoming class. Though I tried, I couldn’t quite get the grades to get in alongside him, so I was trekking across the city to DePaul. I liked DePaul well enough – it had enough flexibility to handle someone who wasn’t quite sure what they wanted to do with their life, and their scholarships were almost generous enough for my parents to agree to ship me across the country. Having Dante’s parents move with us was the final piece they needed to say yes. Saying goodbye was sad, though. My mom cried, and I even saw my dad get teary. Legs was the worst goodbye of all.

“Do you think we’ll see each other?” Dante said, furrowing his brow, staring out into the abyss of the city with that philosopher look he gets. 

“Yeah, of course.” I kissed him on his cheek. God, how lucky I am to be able to do that. I leaned my head onto his bony shoulder and grabbed his hand. We may not be in the desert anymore, but we were still together. “Always.” 

**2 years later**

_ Dante _

I saw him there. At the gallery opening. I knew he didn’t want me to see him. He was trying to slink along the outside of the room, but knowing Ari, slinking was never his strong suit. If he stuck out before, he sure did now: his once-unruly hair was shaved short on the sides, and he had an ear piercing with a feather dangling from a silver chain. He wore a pastel button-down, unbuttoned just enough to seem cool but also keep warm in the frigid Chicago winter that neither of us had ever gotten used to. It was a cold day like this one when he broke my heart. That one text I had glanced at on the L train, then glanced at again, then stared at in disbelief.  _ I met someone. Someone else. _ I knew we hadn’t been keeping in touch like we did in the beginning, but I was under the impression that our Rules contained a loyalty clause. And he was Ari, anyway. I was used to long, silent pauses. They normally passed without leaving a mark. This one hurt. 

I channeled my anger, my nostalgia, and my sadness into my drawings. My Art 201 professor, who up until then had been relatively disappointed by my work, was impressed by my sudden burst of genius. Or madness. It was enough for me to win a spot in the student gallery, which had its grand opening tonight. 

I can’t believe he’s here. He always had a soft spot for my art, but how he could have known about this opening, I can’t say. And it’s embarrassing, too – that this art is about him. It’s like someone seeing your underwear drawer or reading your diary. I wouldn’t be worried if I didn’t know that Ari could see right through the swirls of color and charcoal, but if I know one thing about him, it’s that he’s perceptive. I should talk to him. Say hi. Clear the air. I put my plate of canapés down and squeeze through the throngs of well-dressed liberal arts students. Then I see his hands, his beautiful hands, holding the hand of someone else. 

I turn and walk away. I was once lucky to love him. But my luck didn’t last.


End file.
